


Birthright - A Miklan's study through Birth and Death

by Angelscythe



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Character Study, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Gen, Horse Girl Miklan, M/M, Multi, Violence, Whump, five things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:55:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26213734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelscythe/pseuds/Angelscythe
Summary: Once upon a time, he loved. But the more he looked at the mirror his father held in front of him, the more he saw the bruises, the scars. Little by little, the mirror shattered…Once upon a Time, he loved. Now he wonders how he can he loves anyone… how can anyone lovehim?-----Five times Miklan didn’t get a birthday party and one time did… but not necessarily in this order.
Relationships: Background - Glenn Fraldarius/Holst Goneril/Miklan, Background - Glenn Fraldarius/Miklan, Background - Holst Goneril/Miklan, Miklan & Miklan's horse, Sylvain Jose Gautier & Miklan, Sylvain Jose Gautier's Father & Miklan
Kudos: 8





	Birthright - A Miklan's study through Birth and Death

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everybody!!!!  
> Thanks you for coming here!! I hope you had an amazing day!!! I want you to know you're loved and I'm proud of you!! You're valid and you matter!! Your feelings matter!!  
> I tried my best to correct the story and not die like Glenn but still no human beta?  
> Also, I gave a name to Miklan (Miklan Jade Gautier) before knowing for Anschutz and I just kept it because it grew on me and I love the bittersweetness hid in that 'Jade' name...
> 
> Please, stay hydrated, hug your pet, wash your hands, wear a mask and take care of yourself!!
> 
> You can join me on [@Angelscythe](https://twitter.com/Angelscythe) !!!
> 
> Have a nice day!

Even though they have reached the Garland Moon, it was still extremely cold in those lands that used to belong to Sreng. You could see the Sun, you could see it hit what remained of frost in the first light of the day, but you would never really leave your warm clothes here. And it was still said, especially to kids, that if you got outside when the Night fell, you would die in the second… The truth was that, no matter how hot the day has been, when the veil of night replaced the day, the temperature fell so harshly, almost nothing lived outside…

So, even though it was Garland Moon and most of the kids of Faerghus could undress them and run everywhere without worries, Albertine Gautier had made sure her son was wearing warm clothes before going outside. Before both of them went outside. But while her son went in the big Garden of the property, Albertine begging to block up that damn well he always played around, she walked to the outside of the Capital, hoping she could indeed help with this emergency.

She hadn’t learned a lot about it. She just knew they needed someone from Sreng… and she had to look with despair the fact that her country, in twelve years, had totally lost its roots. It was from Faerghus now, the people walking in the streets that used to be hers had Faerghus people for only population. You could sense it with the stupid mistakes someone from Sreng would never do. How many animals or children have been found dead, or almost dead, because of the fangs of the Night? And they blamed the people of Sreng! Not this invasion that still destroyed her heart…

When her husband invaded her country with two friends because of the tension, when her husband killed her father and her mother before her and her sister’s eyes, when her husband managed to become this husband and to make her pregnant within three months… she didn’t know she would lose more than her mental health. She had lost her ground. And there was nothing she could do except reminding her son, and the baby to come, what they shouldn’t lose.

In the garden, the servants were keeping an eye on Miklan but they had so much work their Lord asked them. So they were barely keeping an eye on him while he played around the well, tried to climb the trees, played with some insects, and chased big ethereal butterflies… He was used to playing alone so it wasn’t a problem for him. He could find fun in any little thing. Damn! He kept for months that rock his father gave him.

Well… throw at him but… it was the same, isn’t it?

Miklan was trying to discover if the family of birds was still in the big tree behind the ranks of flowers his father loved so much when he heard his mother call him.

He swirled on his heels and dashed toward the woman.

Which smiled at him.

“I have a present for you,” she said, her hand on her belly.

She was sweating and puffing, struggling to stay on her feet.

“Milady…” said a servant, holding the side of a kind of wheelbarrow.

She nodded at him. She knew she had to rest. If this was that easy…

“Mother!”

Miklan’s eyes turned toward the little thing in the wheelbarrow. So tiny… well… pretty big because it certainly was bigger than a kitten and yet. It… they looked so tiny, the legs so thin…

“The mother couldn’t give birth to him and put herself in danger. I had to help him to come to life and now, he has no one… would you agree to… AH!”

“Mother?!” Miklan asked, grabbing her dress stained with blood.

She shook her head. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” Except she was able to feel liquid leaking along her thigh. “Would you agree to take care of the baby horse?” she asked.

“Yes, Mother.”

She smiled. “Stay kind now. But cautious with the baby…”

She gestured toward the servants that immediately came to her to bring her inside. Miklan watched at her with surprise then at the baby, in a tight sad ball in the wheelbarrow. The little boy looked at the creature and leaned to remove him from the wheelbarrow but hiccupped when he realized how heavy he was!

Miklan moved and came in the back of the wheelbarrow, unlocking the little door.

“Come, baby!” he said.

He held out his arms to the tiny animal, with a big smile.

He hadn’t even noticed the liquid spreading now on the terrace but he had a jolt when he heard a scream. He knew this scream… since he was two years old, he heard it every year, more or less. And he never knew why his mother started to scream that way. Usually, at that moment, his father was the worse… Angry, on the edge… That was because of those screams he had thrown him the rock the last time…

Miklan moved his hand toward the little foal still in a fetal position in the wheelbarrow.

“Come, baby! But… also take your time!”

The baby moved in the wheelbarrow, trying to stand on his hooves. One last effort allowed him to start shivering on the long and thin legs. His body, though so slender, struggled to be supported by those four legs and yet. Yet, the little animal, pace after pace, approached the side of the wheelbarrow. Miklan smiled when the foal managed to press his snout against his forehead covered with freckles.

“Congratulations, baby!” he smiled.

He passed his arms around the horse and with one push, one effort, tugged him toward his chest.

And they both fell, the weight of the animal being way too much for Miklan. Which hit his head on the floor… perhaps it was because he was used to suffering, but he just started laughing hugging the little foal in his arms. And the little foal himself didn’t seem so panicked, gently pressing his snout against his cheek before trying to eat that fluffy red “grass” on Miklan’s head, making him laugh even more.

There were no predators here, so, even if the little horse was conscious of being a prey of choice, he was chilling with Miklan. Until they heard a wail breaking the tenderness of their playtime. A wail and, a few minutes later, a scream of delight!

“I HAVE A SON!!! SOTHIS GAVE ME A SON!!”

Perhaps Miklan was too young to realize what his father’s voice meant? Or perhaps he just didn’t care about the harshness of a man who couldn’t care for him even if recognizing his existence would save his life? Or perhaps, it was just because Miklan was too busy yelling, “I HAVE A BROTHER!!” with an excited tone…

The startled little foal looked at him with panic but Miklan hugged him out of joy.

“I have a brother!!!” Miklan repeated with excitation. “Come with me, baby!”

Miklan got up and gently pressed his hand on the neck of the tiny horse. Whom didn’t follow him.

It was fine!

“I’m coming back, baby!”

Miklan dashed inside the house and then climbed the stairs, running toward the room of his mother. The screams came from there. He ran, his little heart bouncing in his chest. He knocked at the door and pushed it open. In her bed tainted with different colors, soaked with whatever fluid had been spilled there, Albertine just received her son. A little creature all red, wriggling and wailing, a fluffy red mane already appearing on the top of his head and little spots on his face.

Miklan approached the bed with a smile.

“Hello, little brother!” he said.

“We called him Sylvain José Gautier,” Albertine smiled.

“Sylvain!”

Miklan smiled and held out his arms to the baby. His mother moved to give him the little body, asking him to be cautious. Holding the baby, Miklan gently brought him toward his chest.

“Hello, Sylvain. I’m your bi…”

“No!” Lucas approached his sons and retrieved the newborn. “This Crestless won’t touch my son.”

“Lucas…” Albertine started.

“I said he won’t touch my son!”

She was too tired to protest today. The woman gently touched her elder son’s hair, weakly smiling at him. Miklan squeezed his hand within his and then moved toward his father to see the baby anyway but the man just pushed him away. Miklan tumbled, almost fell on the floor, and stared at the man without understanding anything…

Almost three months later

In the garden, Albertine was keeping an eye on her two sons. Sylvain was still a baby and he didn’t do much except rolling on the floor. Currently, he was… rocking his head, looking as Miklan played with his little foal. The horse, still unnamed and just called “baby” because Miklan wasn’t good with naming, was running around. He was running after Miklan who laughed of delight.

He passed his days with the foal and Albertine had to bring him back a few times from the stables because he tried to sneak in the night. And there was this time when he managed to bring the baby horse in his room. Lucas had beaten him so hard that night but Miklan still believed it was worth it. The horse was making him so happy…

Running in the big garden, Miklan was followed by the adorable foal, less thin, taking muscle every day.

Sylvain rocked his head again, looking as his brother passed in front of him.

“Look, Sylvain! He is chasing me!” he laughed.

The baby stared at him.

And smiled.

Miklan noticed the smile and he came toward his little brother. He glanced at his Albertine with a big smile.

“Mother, can I take him in my arms?” he asked.

The foal pressed his head against Miklan’s arm. Miklan caressed him as he showed his little brother. The woman couldn’t help gently smiling. Miklan was very close of his little brother and he kept bringing him pretty stones or showing him tricks. Even though most of those tricks included a spear or any kind of Lance. Miklan was supposed to be the heir of the Dominion after all… He was supposed to fight, to rule, to know everything about the Nobility and the commoners… and his heart was so pure. Until Sylvain came to live, with a Crest for the liking of her husband, she believed Miklan would be the perfect leader. The leader she wished for her people and for that family so highly linked to the Kings of Faerghus.

“No.”

Miklan turned his head toward his father.

The man always appeared, like by magic, to prevent him from touching his perfect son…

“Father…”

Lucas groaned. He walked toward his Crested son and took him in his arms. “I hope you hadn’t let your son touch my precious son!” he told to his wife.

She looked down and shook her head before sending a look to Miklan. The poor boy was so sad and lost. His hand in the red mane of the horse, the same mane of his brother and his mother… of the people of Sreng, it seemed so.

“Father, I wanted to ask…”

Lucas groaned.

“I mean… Sir, I wanted to ask…” He bit his lower lip. “Can I have a carrot cake?”

“Why?”

“So I can share it with the baby!” Miklan smiled, showing the foal.

“No… Why do you want a cake?”

“Well… it’s my birthday, Sir?”

The man stared at him and Albertine hiccupped. She had forgotten it. She was always so busy with Sylvain, at her husband’s request, she had forgotten this… She barely got time to find milk for the foal so Miklan could feed his baby horse. She barely got time to read him a story at night.

And she had forgotten his birthday.

“Why would I celebrate such a vain day? What have you brought with your birth except for annoyance and cost?” the man bitterly said to Miklan.

“But… I… I just thought…”

“Then, stop thinking. When you will have a Crest like your brother, perhaps I will think about your birthday again,” he smirked.

“Lucas!” Albertine protested.

“But…” Miklan whispered.

“What? Have you anything to say back?”

None of them knew if he was talking to his wife or his son. One second later, he was already busy watching his young heir with the eyes full of pride. He brought an heir to the Gautier family! With all the efforts his cousins and siblings did, he was the one who would show his power, the power of their Crests.

And it wasn’t grave if it had cost twelve children to do so…

Three years later

“Miklan! Miklan! Miklan!”

In the big stables of the property, Miklan was working with his horse. The baby foal, thin and clumsy was now a very big stallion, taller than Miklan who was already so tall for a young boy. They both showed the blood of Sreng poured in their veins, tall, redhead, big… so big with prominent muscles… Miklan wasn’t exactly bad to look at, even though he had the very rough traits of his father and not those so soft of his mother, and a few girls already tried to get his attention. But he never gave them back the favor. He only cared about coming back home and train the horse he called Dumbass, because he really was silly, until he would have to bring him back in his stable. Something Miklan had to build with his bare hands because Lucas refused to have the horse in _his_ stable.

“Miklan! Miklan! Miklan!”

Miklan turned his head toward Sylvain, three years old, running toward him, his arms spreading and a big smile on his tiny lips.

“Miklan!”

Miklan leaned to grab Sylvain under the armpits, lifting him and making him laugh. He let out a shrieking “yes” as Miklan made him swirl in the air.

How often Miklan hadn’t been beaten by his father because he had touched his brother? He remembered that time the man had stabbed his hand with his fork because he had picked up Sylvain’s fork and their fingers had brushed. Lucas Ernest Gautier seemed to be extremely afraid that Miklan would suck out his brother’s Crest just by touching him.

Brushing him.

Miklan only wanted to give to Sylvain the love he hadn’t from his father.

From their parents…

Albertine used to be such a loving mom but after having lost so many children because they were Crestless, after having seen just like the feeding machine of the Crested heir and nothing else… she changed. She stopped being that benevolent and tender. She seemed to stop knowing how to love and… she lost her strength…

Sylvain never knew love from his mother and certainly not from his father. It was interest, not love. And since Sylvain’s birth… Miklan hadn’t known love at all. Before, through the interest Lucas had because Miklan was the elder Gautier, he believed he received love from his father through the studies and he received love from his mother. The truth was that… his father’s interest was already sick back then and he made him work so harshly, insulting him, beating him… but at least, he was someone. Someone deserving a birthday, deserving to call him “father” and deserving to eat at his table… Now, he was taking all his meals with Dumbass, in that stable…

Miklan perfectly knew he risked being beaten up if his father learned he was touching Sylvain, playing with him.

But he didn’t care.

He wanted to make his brother happy. Nothing else.

And so, he was lifting him. Literally and not literally. He was making him swirl, making him laugh. Dumbass watched them, obedient.

“Miklan!” Sylvain smiled. “You saw my shoes?!”

Miklan looked down and the boots and smiled when he saw the messy knots. “You tied them alone?” he asked, putting him down.

“Yes!! Like you do!!”

Sylvain’s cheeks were red of pleasure. The hot season had settled down and while soon this part of the Dominion, once being the Capital of Sreng, will be a cold hell again… But for now, those red cheeks were really a sign of pleasure because Sylvain had managed to tie his boots just as Miklan showed him…

“You’re the best,” Miklan smiled, ruffling his hair. “I can’t believe you’re so cute!”

Sylvain laughed.

“Miklan! Can we play?!”

“Yeah, sure.” Miklan looked at his horse. “Dumbass!”

The stallion approached with a proud look. Miklan caressed his mane and, his eyes shining like a million diamonds, Sylvain moved his hand to the horse. Miklan checked his old friend, his sole friend, wouldn’t be afraid and then let the kid caress the black hair.

“I love horses!” Sylvain smiled, caressing the snout with delight.

“They are great. But Dumbass is the best!”

“The best!!!! But…” Sylvain frowned. “I’m the best?”

“You’re the best too! But you’re the best brother and he is the best horse!”

And probably the best friend he would ever have.

Being close to Sylvain actually warmed his heart but also made him shiver in fear. When will his father know? Because the man always managed to know… And when will he know… what will be the punishment?

His brother under his armpit, his forearm around his tiny body, Miklan brought back Dumbass in the stable and then walked to the garden. He hadn’t played much there since Sylvain’s birth but he remembered so many plays and fun. He preferred bringing Sylvain here when they didn’t play in his room because, in his opinion, it was still safer. He knew Dumbass was a good horse but he didn’t trust his father’s horse. He didn’t trust him for anything. And yet… yet, he wanted to earn his affection. Or his respect.

He wanted to be _seen_ by him.

And yet… yet, while he wanted to be seen by him, he checked around to be sure the man couldn’t notice them.

Not a second.

He wanted to make Sylvain happy a little before the punishment would fall.

“Oooooh!” Sylvain let out. “Miklan!! Miklan!! Floor please!!”

“It’s the ground, not the floor,” Miklan told him to put him down. “What have you seen, Princess?” he teased.

“Look!”

Sylvain dashed toward a blue butterfly, chasing them with his hands rose. He tried to close them around the beautiful bug, however, this one was faster than him, swirling in the soft current of wind.

Miklan had a smile, looking at him run everywhere.

Sylvain had all the toys he wanted: balls by the dozen; swing; big slide and structure where he could play for hours.

Miklan never got that. Miklan felt jealous… a tiny bit. But jealous anyway. He cared for Sylvain and wanted to protect him but… why was he allowed to receive this kind of respect coated with honey?

“Sylvain! Take care!”

The little boy almost threw his head in that old well Miklan had played around so often. He knew the well… More than a little. He totally knew Sylvain was pressing on a stone that was loose and would make him fall in the deep hole! He knew if he climbed on the edge, the slippery moss would throw down the water…

So, Miklan dashed to him and grabbed him.

“Yes!” Sylvain smiled, holding out his hands to the butterfly.

“Syl…”

Miklan sighed and held him out to the butterfly.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

He turned his head and his fingers twitched. His hands opened like a flower. A creepy flower that called a yell.

Sylvain’s yell?

Miklan moved his head and looked at his hands with horror.

No more Sylvain?!

And sobs and wail echoing against the walls of the old well…

“Sylv…”

All of sudden, Miklan was shoved on the side, his chin hit the well with such violence, blood stained the wet mossy stone.

“F… Father…” Miklan whispered.

The man looked at him with hatred. He grabbed him by his hair and forced his head backward, his nails digging in the skull of this Crestless son…

“How dare you?” he said with hatred. “How dare you to have tried to kill your brother?!”

“I didn’t!”

Miklan felt the blood stream along his chin. He moved his hand to stop the afflux but his father grabbed his wrist, twisting it. Miklan hiccupped of pain.

“I did nothing! He wanted to catch a butterfly!”

“Do you think I will believe you?! Why would you have let go of him if it had been just to help him?!”

Sylvain’s wails echoed in the deep pit, yelling for Miklan to help him.

Miklan wondered… why wasn’t he jumping in that well to get him back? Why did he hold him above the hole? He could have held him anywhere but no… no, he held him above the hole. And he was strong while Sylvain was so tiny and light so… why did he let go of him?

“You will never again approach my heir, you Demon! And if you touch him ever again, I will break your hands myself!”

As he said those words, Lucas let go of his elder son’s hand. Which found the ground, closing on the grass with bitterness and a strange anew inner fear. Big error. His father’s foot landed on his hand, making him yell. A yell drowning the sound of the tiny bones breaking…

Miklan hiccupped in pain, his saliva sliding along his bleeding chin. And he was shaking.

He wanted to say he did nothing wrong but… could he only?

Tears were rolling along his cheeks.

His father wasn’t seeing them, too busy to lean above the well and call Sylvain, swearing he would soon get him out of here.

Miklan was staring his hand, blood falling on his freckled skin.

It was the hand wielding his Lance. And his father didn’t care about breaking it. But why would he have? He wasn’t destined to be the next heir anymore. He wasn’t supposed to be the Warrior protecting the people, protecting Faerghus, anymore. He was nothing and his father proved it to him once again…

And Miklan kept staring at this well.

How had he managed to drop him?

How had he…

He heard Sylvain’s screams and he could only stay there, feeling a hint of jealousy because his father was doing everything to bring back Sylvain. He remembered the time he had lost him in the mountains, two years before and… and fuck, he certainly tried to get rid of him. But with Dumbass, they managed to come back. They had the blood of Sreng, they have a resistance Lucas would never dream of.

His father would do anything to save Sylvain, calling for help, but he would let him die.

Some day, he even forgot to give him something to eat. And if his mother forgot because she was out of her mind…

He had started to gather food if ever.

His father broke his hand. His father already tried to kill him. His father just walloped his chin in the well and blood was spreading around… and he didn’t care.

He cared about nothing but Sylvain.

Everybody cared only about Sylvain…

Himself, he only cared about his younger brother. His younger brother and Dumbass… and his mother but… but who cared about him? Sylvain always came playing with him but he already saw Sylvain having fun with a rock. And, honestly, he didn’t feel more than a rock in the garden. His father wasn’t seeing him, Sylvain’s wails were echoing in the walls of the pit and his ear like a funereal song…

Not Sylvain’s…

His.

Because he just understood what had happened at the second Sylvain was born, with his stupid Crest; because he just understood why his father didn’t celebrate his birthday anymore.

For Sothis’ sake!! He just understood why his _birthday_ present was a broken hand alongside a chin still streaming of blood…

At the second Sylvain was born… He was dead to his father. And due to the circumstances… to his mother.

He was nothing.

And he hated Crests…

Years later

“You’re just good-for-nothing!”

Miklan was used to that. When you were about to be seventeen years old and you only heard that… When it had been so many years since your father made you understand it would be so much better if you were _dead_ … Hell! His father already forbidden him to eat anything from the house for no reason in the sole hope he would stop breathing, too weak for that.

And the more he removed right to his son, the more said son was growing taller and bigger. Lucas was a big and muscular man and yet, his son was already thirty centimeters taller and his muscles were so wide. You could notice he didn’t eat much and you could guess he didn’t want to be careful about his own appearance. Why would he?

His father only gave him attention when he was making spread scars on his skin and words of abuse in his mind…

Words of abuse he had started to believe.

Good-for-nothing, worthless, unable to fight correctly, weak, bad…

Oh yes, he was bad. And if his father wanted it, he’d be the worse!

Either he would prove him he was worthy despite his lack of Crest or he will make him suffer by removing him what he was so proud of… that Crested heir… That stupid child everybody loved more than him…

So… that “you’re just good-for-nothing”? It was just what a lullaby he had been rocked by. Vain words… or words digging hard to nestle in his mind.

“Why can’t you be like Glenn?! At least, he is useful! He has been dubbed! The younger Knight for generations! And you…” Lucas let out a cold laugh. “And you!”

“You keep saying I’m nothing, I can’t do anything but I am able of way more than you think so…” Miklan replied.

“What can you do?!” the man laughed.

Miklan knew how much his father bragged anything Sylvain would do. The Crested heir… and him? Nothing. Slap, hit, hatred…

If he knew he was the one who had gathered all those bandits around and helped them to launch attacks and grab food for all of them.

Every one of them.

Without them, without those attacks and that gold they sometimes managed to get, he wouldn’t be able to eat. Wouldn’t be able to give some food to Dumbass…

And while this moment, Sylvain was still in that bliss.

Now, the man was trying to make enter a new concurrent? Ts! Miklan knew Sylvain wasn’t able to do anything yet. He was six years old and, yes, he was smart and his teachers were praising him but he never studied, he never trained… so either they were lying so Lucas would be happy, or he was a genie.

Nothing changed the finality.

Nothing changed the fact that every day, Miklan was even more in turmoil. Each new day, his hatred grew up. Each new day, he felt even more worthless…

And had to pretend he didn’t suffer from all of this.

But he did suffer…

Perhaps… probably, Sylvain didn’t deserve to pay for everything his father was doing to him but he made him pay. Relentlessly.

From one day to the next, the loving brother had disappeared and through the years, he started to become worse and worse…

He wasn’t even proud, wasn’t even ashamed.

He just felt nothing.

Jealousy, resent, being ignored, mistreated… it slowly changed him, and now, when he heard his father tell he couldn’t be like his brother and couldn’t be like Glenn?!

Glenn that came so often with Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius, always caring for Sylvain, always carrying Felix with him.

Not good enough to be better than Glenn, uh?

“Nothing, Sir…”

Miklan got up from the sofa where he was sitting, his arms around the back of the sofa. He threw a cold look to his father and left the room then the house to go outside. In the big garden. You could hear the laugh of two children.

At the moment he arrived, though, he heard a gasp.

“Sylvain?!”

“Sylviiie!” a voice started to sob.

Miklan stepped outside and threw a big smile to Sylvain who stared at him with fear. How startling it was… Three years ago, that little boy would have run toward him and launch himself in his arms. Now, he shook at his sole view… He would run away from him if he could.

It seemed that none of them could remember the complicity they used to have…

“Calm yourself _Princess!”_ he snickered.

That was the only thing that remained from this lost time. But the difference was that he pursued calling him that way because when they were losing each other, he tried to fight against his guts and kept calling him with this nickname… and when his father heard him call his precious heir that way, he was absolutely revolted and just that… it was enough for Miklan to keep doing it…

Miklan walked toward Glenn who checked after the children. His brother just hugged his friend, looking at him with worries. Miklan grabbed Glenn by the chin, smiling at him as he made him lift his head.

“So I heard you have been dubbed! Look at you! A real knight!” he smirked.

“Yeah and if you keep behaving that way, you will taste my spur in your calf!” Glenn groaned.

“My calf?! You think you can reach it?!” Miklan laughed. He turned his head. “Felix, tries to drown my brother, I need yours a minute.”

Miklan took Glenn’s wrist and make him come with him. Glenn resisted, turning his head toward the children.

“You go inside immediately!” he commanded.

Miklan’s strength brought him outside of the garden, toward the stables, but Glenn kept looking at the children. He wanted to be sure they entered. Miklan looked around as they arrived in the stables and he pushed Glenn toward Dumbass’ place. The horse smashed his hoof on the floor and he stared at Glenn who pasted his back against the wooden wall, staring at Miklan as he approached him.

The young man leaned over him, Glenn being still so tiny, and he grabbed his face again, tilting it.

“If you hurt me, you won’t receive any kiss, Miklan,” he warned.

Miklan smiled and lowered a bit more, Glenn rose on his tip toe and passed his arms around his shoulders, his other hand caressing his muscles and he accepted the kiss with delight. He abandoned himself to this embrace, to the kiss…

For one minute of bliss, there was nothing else.

Just them…

“So… Knight, uh? The youngest Knight for ages. The Pride of your father…”

“Don’t be resentful,” Glenn said. “But yes… That’s not the most special news for today thought…” Glenn closed his fingers around Miklan’s shirt. He had nothing against being imprisoned by this tall silhouette to the point it could bring a feeling of claustrophobia. He just wanted this could be their will. Instead of that, they had to hide like criminals… “Father announced to me I am engaged!”

“Engaged?”

“Engaged!” Glenn groaned, looking at him in the eyes. “Since ten years! With that girl from Galatea’s territory: Ingrid! They had so many children and though none of them will ever bear a Crest…”

“Then she arrived!” Miklan growled, his fist hitting violently on the wooden wall. “I hate Crested people.”

Dumbass whined and shook his head.

“ _I_ am Crested, Miklan!” Glenn reminded, tugged up his top.

Around his navel, you could see a discrete Crest of Fraldarius. It was something every Crested had… When they used their Crest for the very first time, willingly or not willingly, it started to appear, more and more present every time they called that power.

Miklan went on his knees and leaned to kiss the skin.

“You are different…” His fingers twitched. He didn’t dare to touch it. “Why you?!”

“They tried to wed her to Felix but Felix’s Crest is so powerful already… Father wanted to keep it as an asset. It was more interesting to give me away, make sure to produce more Crested heir in the future and, finally, the family is cousin to the Royalty. By this marriage, he saves a Dominion about to collapse and will prove to uncle Lambert how awesome he is. I told him it was bullshit and he told me it was my duty. As a Knight of the King!”

“So you will do it…” Miklan whispered.

Glenn looked away for the first time.

“I don’t know if I hate Chivalry or Crests the most.”

“Oh shut up! You would have a Crest, it would be the best thing ever! You don’t hate Crest! You hate not having one!”

“And what’s the problem?!” Miklan groaned, getting up.

Glenn looked him in the eyes.

“I can’t give you a Crest but I love you…”

“You love me…” Miklan whispered.

How could he believe that?

A bit after the well incident, his father made Glenn come often so he could teach Chivalry and art of the weapon to Sylvain. He was supposed to be dedicated to him and only him. Glenn belonged to Sylvain, like everything else…

And yet… when Miklan started to pick on him, principally to defy his father, they started to bond. And since last year, he could land his lips on these tiny lips, hug this tiny body. Was this love? He didn’t believe he could deserve it…

“I love you, Miklan! You hate this place and I don’t want to marry a little girl who deserves better! Let’s run away!” Glenn asked.

There was a sound.

Slow.

The door of the stable opening. A grind so slow, mixing with the wind.

Glenn and Miklan turned their heads.

And they realized. The big hand on the tiny hip, the tiny hand on the wide muscle, so close of each other. Those words…

“Glenn, if you pretend you said nothing, I won’t say anything to your father,” a cold voice said.

Slow.

Bringing a taste of unfairness. Of melancholy…

“Uncle Lucas!”

“Such dishonor!” the man groaned. “I was used to see such a shame coming from Miklan but you, Glenn! How dare you be so disrespectful with your father, with your King?! You have to reply to the desires of your Kingdom!”

“I know, uncle Lucas, but I can’t love her!”

“We don’t ask you to love her!”

Lucas grabbed Glenn with his free hand, the other lovingly hugging the Lance of Ruin, with those wiggly bones and that Stone shining with the Crest Miklan craved for.

Glenn pushed him away.

“ _I_ don’t care! I love your son an…”

A violent slap forced Glenn to keep his mouth closed. He looked up with hatred at the man who was far away from an uncle by the gesture and by the blood. He didn’t even know why he kept offering such a name…

But, before he could even protest, Miklan had stepped forward, threw his fist in his father’s face. Lucas was knocked back but he saw the hand coming toward him once again. He dodged the new blow, dodged the hand trying to grab his wrist… and he aimed back an attack.

“Miklan!!”

The Lance of Ruin opened Miklan’s flesh, tasting his blood.

Glenn dashed toward him as Miklan yelled. Lucas grabbed the young Knight by the waist.

“No!” Glenn yelled, trying to reach Miklan.

On his knees, the pain crossing his body, Miklan pressed his palms over his face. Blood streamed from his hands, spreading on the court. Dumbass was whining, moving his hooves with violence.

Glenn swirled in Lucas’ arm, threw his knee between _his_ knees, and at the second the man let go of him, he dashed to Miklan, crouching by his side.

“Miklan!”

He didn’t dare to touch him, hearing him kept yelling and growling. Blood kept coming from his hand, streaming along his cheeks, drowning his tears and sliding along his muscles.

“I will bring my father’s back!” Glenn swore.

Miklan grabbed him by the wrist and Glenn twitched with horror, feeling the dampness, the stickiness of the blood soaking his skin. He saw Miklan’s face, devastated with blood, rivers still coming from his face.

“Miklan! I have to…”

“Stay…” he said with a husky voice.

A voice filled with pain.

Glenn looked at him with dread but slowly nodded. He removed his shirt and pressed it over his face.

“Sorry…”

The shirt soaked with red so fast, Glenn’s eyes could only widen.

“Glenn!” Lucas growled.

“If you… touch… him…” Miklan groaned through his pain.

His father had moved his hand to close it around Glenn’s shoulder. Lucas stared him right in the eyes and his fingers brushed Glenn, clamping around his muscle, tucking him backward.

Miklan straightened in a bolt and aimed for a punch.

Lucas moved the Lance of Ruin, the wiggling bones greedy of that Gautier blood they just had tasted. Miklan winced. Glenn freed himself from the grasp and passed his arms around Miklan.

“If you want to touch your son, you will have to talk with my father!” he menaced. “What will he say when he will discover you’ve killed his son?! What your precious King will do when he will know you killed the one who has to protect his son?!”

Glenn was so tiny, his head arriving only at Miklan’s chest, Lucas could have thrown his lance, like a javelin, in his son’s face but he said nothing.

He smirked, however.

“I will talk to your father, indeed. With a bit of luck, he will put some sense into you.” Lucas grabbed his chin in his long pale fingers, smiling. He forced him to look up at him. “Profit, Glenn… this is the last time you will see that Monster.” His fingers contracted and the nails entered Glenn’s skin. “And never forget: this thing isn’t my son.”

Lucas let go of him and stepped away.

Miklan stared at the Lance of Ruin. His fists were contracted, balled in such a way his own nails were hurting him but he hadn’t attacked.

But the truth…

At the second Lucas was out of his view, he just allowed himself to faint. He heard Glenn yelling his name as he collapsed on him but everything turned blank. He had fought so much just to be sure his father wouldn’t mock him…

It was again… such a beautiful birthday…

A few months later

“Chief, I don’t understand… What do we do again?”

It burnt. It burnt so much! His face was burning. Always burning… It never stopped. No matter if he tried to splash his visage with hot, cold or very cold water. No matter if he tried to numb his flesh in the coldness of what used to be Sreng.

It kept burning…

No matter what he did, he couldn’t erase what his father did when he finally allowed him to touch the Lance of Ruin… touch it with his flesh. And it had certainly been six months since this scar was burning his flesh. It had made him suffer relentlessly and… and he couldn’t even find some relief in the loving embrace of Glenn because his father had made sure he wouldn’t see him again.

Hell, for months, he had been locked in his room, like a dog!

He didn’t know how Dumbass might have survived, his father not caring at all for him, but his stallion was still brave and strong. He was carrying his heavyweight without a single problem at this exact moment. Miklan stared at the path alongside he was with his bandits, his hair quickly tied in a low ponytail and his vest floating in the warm wind that swirled not so far away from Garreg Mach…

Thanks to his bandits, he managed to run away from home two weeks ago and now, it would be the apogee of his plan…

He would get Glenn back, come back home, destroy his father…

“We stop one of those carriages. You can have all the precious stuff that stupid baby Noble will carry with them and you even can keep them in hostage to get a ransom. Me, I use his carriage and I bring back Glenn amongst us. After…” He sighed. “After, we’ll see…”

The path was still empty.

But Miklan was on his guards. In the bushes around, with the forest following the trackway, it was easy to hide and wait…

Wait until they heard the sound of the horses’ hooves hitting the ground and until the sound of the carriage’s wheels on the little rocks were carried by the wind…

“Get ready!” Miklan commanded.

The carriage approached. More and more at every second. The final moment was about to arrive.

They were used to launch those kinds of attacks. Less of taking hostage or of having their chief pretending to be a student of Garreg Mach. Honestly, who would have believed that? Between his scars, his tangled hair tied quickly, the look on his eyes…

Who would have believed he was from Nobility and, until the birth of his brother, he stupidly thought he would inherit everything? He stupidly believed he would be seen… loved…

And now…

Miklan closed his hands on Dumbass reins.

When he heard the carriage grew closer, he looked outside the bushes and saw his prey approaching. He dug his heels in Dumbass’ side, and the horse dashed toward the carriage. The other horses immediately whined and moved aside. One of the four almost knocked their head in a tree alongside the path and as they avoided the blow, they were knocked down by one of their comrades who were thrown against them in the tumult.

The guy who was driving let out a scream and a hiccup of surprise. And another scream when he saw a group of bandits suddenly come out the bushes. Their weapons and their toothless smile shining in the Sun.

“No!” the man yelled.

He groped on the hard wooden seat he was one, trying to find his own knife. Vain hope. Already the bandits were throwing themselves on him for the scraps of treasure he could offer them.

Miklan immediately made Dumbass come toward the cubicle of the carriage. He opened the door swiftly, jumping from the saddle despite his impressive weight and landing on the little step above the door. The carriage creaked and the wood whined. In a cloud of pink, something slim and tall toppled toward him. Miklan caught them back, his hand closing around the frame of the door.

“If I were you…”

Metal shone in the Sun. A smile, far away from being toothless, taking that warm gleam too.

“What would you do?” the Noble smiled.

Miklan could feel the edge of the knife against his Adam’s apple.

“So… You let go of my servant. Now. Or I stab your chief!” the Noble yelled at the bandits.

They all turned their head toward the main part of the carriage and stared, in shock.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I have still you against me,” Miklan said.

“I have noticed it. I like it,” the Noble smiled.

“I could break you with one hand.”

“Interesting.” He winked.

Miklan blushed and moved away his hand. Just to push him in the carriage and enter.

“Don’t stop guys! I’ll get you this guy!”

“I think you didn’t understand,” the Noble said. “If they touch my servant, I’ll have your guts as garters.”

“With those pretty hands and that pretty face?” Miklan smirked.

“Oh, you think I’m pretty?! Thank you so much!”

He jumped at his neck. Miklan was surprised… but even more when he suddenly fell on the carriage that wavered even more than earlier. And he had the thigh of the guy around his neck, the edge of a knife, once again, against his Adam’s apple. And yet, he could see the glimpse in the pink eyes, the wide smile of someone who had to always pretend but hadn’t really smiled since too long. Those long wavy pink hair sliding along a shoulder not that frail… Those clothes nobles, and yet, with something… savage.

“You’re beautiful…”

“Thank you. I like what I see…”

When those pink lips said those words, Miklan could only laugh. His throat was bumping against the knife. Droplets of blood slid and the guy moved away the knife.

Miklan could have taken that to his advantage.

“What you see?!” Miklan grabbed his wrist. “ _That_ face?!” he groaned. “It’s only the ghost of the love I shouldn’t be allowed to have.”

Miklan was sure he was hurting the Noble with his grip but this one said nothing, looking him in the eyes, his other hand brushing his cheek.

“What is doing a Noble with a bunch of bandits?”

“What tell you am I a Noble?” Miklan coldly chuckled.

“Your way to talk.”

“I’m a bandit!” Miklan spat with pride.

“Now. But not before…”

“What the hell allows a pretty guy like you to be that strong?!”

Said pretty guy laughed.

“So you really don’t know who am I?”

Miklan rose an eyebrow.

“Why my carriage then?”

“Any carriage was fine! I need to go to Garreg Mach!”

The Noble frowned. “Tell me why and I might help you. As long as my servant is safe.”

Miklan could have protested. _Should_ have protested. But what could he do against someone who clearly knocked him down in a matter of seconds?

“I need to go to Garreg Mach to save my b… my friend.” He groaned. Shit, he has to say it or it would be weird, no? “His father sent him to Garreg Mach to keep us away from each other.”

“I see…” He leaned over him, his hair sliding a bit more and the tip of them caressing Miklan’s chest in the cleavage of his vest. “I’m Holst Prudentia Goneril…”

Miklan groaned and shook his head.

He didn’t know who he was! Why would he even know? His father didn’t let him know a lot of things, did he? He knew about the Fraldarius because they were very close to his family so how could you ignore them?

But that Goneril?

That Goneril that gave him such a bright smile.

“Just know that I beat guys as tough as you every day since I’m fourteen. And…” he pressed his finger on his lips. “… you really are pleasant to look at.”

His fingers moved and slid slightly on the scars. Brushing. Not even pressing a little in the fear of hurting him.

“Ts… Bullshit.”

Holst got up.

“You can use my carriage and we will search your friend together,” he said, walking toward the door to open it.

He jumped down the carriage and looked at the bandits.

“Let go of him, or you will suffer,” he warned.

Miklan came down the carriage. “Do as he said. I will bring you money and what you’ll need to feast from Garreg Mach.”

“Master…” the servant said, bandits around him.

Bandits that were moving away, leaving him room. Holst approached them, his eyes cold. In his hand, the knife looked so threatening. Miklan walked to his crew and glanced at the man. He was suddenly so different.

“Your guy is fine,” Miklan growled.

Holst jumped on the seat of the carriage.

“Are you really fine, Damian?”

The man looked up at him, then the bandits and also Miklan. He had this presence saying _he_ was the one in charge and didn’t allow things to get off hands. In his eyes, there was something so threatening and yet… his Master had stood by his side without problems. What should he believe?

No!

He couldn’t believe his Master had been seduced by this Red Demon!

And yet… if you asked Miklan, he would say he must have a hypnotizing power because he didn’t know why that guy would care about him one second. The tenderness of his fingers on his skin… Never had anyone been like that with him. Perhaps Sylvain could have if he hadn’t broken everything because he knew how much his father hated him; because he hated Crest more than his father hated him… And as for Glenn… Glenn was very tender. Glenn was able to show more love than anyone in his so vain and melancholic life. But it wasn’t that soft…

“Everything is fine Damian.” Holst swirled on himself and smiled at the bandits. He leaned, took something in his boots, and threw it to a guy. “I will keep your chief a moment. Be nice and don’t attack people.” He blew them a kiss and moved toward the carriage. His hand came around Miklan’s arm but he stopped as he was tugging him toward the door. “Wait a second… we need another horse.”

“Dumbass can do it,” Miklan said.

“Excuse me?”

Having heard his name, the big horse approaching, the hooves hitting hard on the ground.

“This is Dumbass.”

“That’s gold chief! He gave us gold!” a bandit said to Miklan.

They were around the purse.

Miklan stared at the guy who just approached Dumbass and gently caressed his snout.

Who was this Holst Prudentia Goneril?!

“Dumbass, come!” Miklan groaned. “Guys, stay on your guards with the money. Use it smartly. I try to come back fast.”

“So we don’t take the Noble as hostage?” a bandit asked.

“Taking me as hostage?” Holst smirked. “So interesting.”

Miklan groaned and went to the carriage to tie Dumbass, gently talking at his ear. Dumbass was a smart horse. He was confident with him being able to handle this task. The two other horses still seemed a bit off. He hoped they would be able to take the road because if they have to leave them here, he would be fine. His crew risked eating them but… whatever. He really only cared for his Dumbass…

He pressed his forehead against the big cheek and caressed his throat before stepping away and coming to the carriage’s door. Holst stepped inside and Miklan followed him. A few seconds after, the carriage moved. Holst closed the curtains in front of the tiny windows and yellow sparkles came from his fingers, going to the little candles all around.

“If you don’t mind, I need to change myself for the Monastery.”

“Do,” Miklan groaned.

He didn’t know what he had to look at now. The pink curtains?

“You can watch if you want to,” Holst winked.

“What?!”

Miklan groaned even more and turned his head as the guy removed his top.

“I’m kidding!” he said. “Eh! You didn’t tell me your name?”

“Miklan…”

“Just Miklan?”

Miklan glanced at him by instinct and saw his chest. He looked away even faster as the pink lips turned into a smile.

“It’s fine if it’s just Miklan, you know?”

“Miklan Jade Gautier…”

“Gautier?! That is so great! I heard about your mission for Faerghus. People said you and I have the same role! But tell me…”

Miklan glanced at him. “You wear garters…” he said under his breath.

Holst looked down to said garters. Pink with white lacey.

“Oh yes! Guess I won’t need your guts!” he winked. Then, he got up to remove his pants and his boots. “But tell me. How does someone like you ended up at the head of a band of bandits? Too tired of using your Crest for your people?”

For a moment, Miklan stared, hypnotized, discovering he had _more_ than cute, or rather seducing, garters… For a moment, Miklan wondered if he could only _do_ that. How Glenn would react if he knew he was looking at another man? That way.

But the moment vanished at the second that guy mentioned the Crest.

“I have no Crest. But you neither, I see…”

Somewhat he… he felt it in such a positive way. He wasn’t the only Noble deprived of a Crest? He always thought he was the only one. Once again, he didn’t see many people. Except for his mother—coming from Sreng, so it didn’t count—everybody had a Crest around him: his father, his stupid brother, his Glenn, Glenn’s little brother, His Majesty the King, the young Highness, and Glenn’s father, of course.

How couldn’t he find so bad when he was the only one without a Crest?

And, yes, sending Glenn over Garreg Mach was made as a punishment for the love they shared but they always planned to send him over around eighteen. He needed to enter the Monastery to be not only a Knight of the Kingdom and Their Majesty and Highness but also to become a Knight of the Church and Seiros. While for him? Nothing… they never planned to send him there.

Why would they lose money, why the teachers should lose their time to teach him? Teach someone like him? Crestless and worthless…

As those dark thoughts were turning in Miklan’s mind, Holst had approached him. His hands with shiny pink nails, and a golden deer ring, had softly laid on his thighs and his perfume was invading him.

“You’ve watched me?”

“No!” Miklan protested.

Holst smiled. “You sure you watched everywhere?”

“Hadn’t watch! My heart belongs to someone already!” he growled. “Get dressed!!”

“Yeah…” His tone was still bright and light despite having learned for Glenn. “Look me in the eyes.”

“Look you in the eyes. What wr…”

A Crest was shining in his left eye.

Crested…

He was Crested…

“You have a Crest.”

“Yup!”

Miklan grabbed his face in his hand, staring at his eyes.

“You’re hurting me, bad boy…”

“I hate Crest…” Miklan said.

“Why?”

“Shouldn’t you get dressed?” Miklan growled as the guy sat next to him.

“Does it disturb you?” Holst wondered, taking his hands in his tinier one.

What was disturbing him? Him in lingerie or him holding his hands?

Or… him looking him that way?

“I was born Crestless so I’m nothing.”

“I don’t believe that. You are someone! You are someone for that person you love!”

“Perhaps… But he is engaged to someone else. This is all about this. We hid our relationship for one year and suddenly, my fucking dad learned about it and it was all over. I hurt him because I cared for him!”

And he hurt Sylvain because he cared for him too… until he started to hurt him because he was jealous, because it was unfair, because… the love he had slowly turned into hatred. He could only hate. So why would Glenn bother to love him?

“And you came to get him?”

“Yes! He said he didn’t want to marry her! So I will bring him back to my crew and this will be all over.”

“This is so romantic. I will help you. We say you are my bodyguard and we find him! Alright?”

“What if he wants to stay here? I hadn’t seen him for six months… He wants to be a Knight, he was destined to that…”

“Does he love you?”

Miklan shrugged. “He said so…”

But how could someone love him? He still couldn’t believe it. Six months he tried to process that information.

And he still couldn’t.

Glenn must have said that to use him. He was big, strong… He could defeat people… Well, he was supposed to? In the end, he proved to be weak. So weak… just look at his face. Just look at how useless he was…

“I keep you then. Is it fine for you?” Holst asked.

“Keep me?” Miklan whispered.

“Yeah.” Holst moved one of his hands to push away one dirty strand. He didn’t seem to mean at all. “If he loves you but wants those studies, I hid you under my bed! Better me than your darling, right?! I already have such a reputation, anyway! Holst Prudentia Goneril, the best in everything! From riding to… riding!” He winked. And then laughed. “I’m kidding! I do have a reputation, though,” he added, putting a strand of hair behind his ear.

Miklan could see the earring he was wearing.

He starred at him.

He wanted to say, “why?”

But why?

Why, it was quite obvious…

To Holst, he certainly was a pretty toy he could play with…

Eighteen months later

Staring at the ceiling, Miklan was lost in his thoughts.

He had nothing else to do. All-day long, what else could he do except training and training and training and after that feeling like a piece of shit? Lost in his thoughts, the same came back. Relentlessly…

_“What if Sylvain wasn’t born?! Would I be allowed at Garreg Mach? What if I killed him now… He is still so young. He doesn’t care about being a Margrave. I care! I learned! I was so studious. I was becoming so good with a Lance but he took that from me. He took my mother… Mother… she became a living Ghost when she gave birth to him. He sucks life out… This stupid child… Since he exists, I only received pain and wounds from Father…”_

Funny enough… except last year, he always received scars since Sylvain’s third birthday. A scar per birthday… what a pleasant father.

Well… this day, he might dodge the pain again…

Miklan passed his hands on his face.

Ugh… Perhaps he shouldn’t lie on this bed because he had done so many push-ups and he was so stinky…

His thoughts invaded him again.

Saw this stupid Princess not doing anything and be praised all the time. He was working so much, on everything, training hours, studying hours and nothing saw his efforts. But the little Crested baby came and did something he just had done and it was marvelous…

He hated him.

He had beaten his little brother so often just for that. Just because he was loved, just because he was everything… Before, he would have taken any blow for him… and now… Now, he just wanted…

The door opened, bringing a warm wind.

So hot…

At least, for him coming from the big North, beyond the mountains, it was so hot.

“Hi, tough guy.”

Miklan sat on the bed, looking at Holst entering his room. He walked toward the desk to put down his books, the breeze softly taking in the skirt he was wearing. Seteth hated him for that… or perhaps because he refused to wear his shorts and only wore that black sleeveless vest with a cleavage a bit too deep. Holst was just an ode to the indecency, according to Seteth, but Miklan just found him so lovely. He loved watching him light a candle just like now, the soft perfume swirling in the room. He loved when he gathered bouquet… He loved… the warm he was bringing around him… Him who was just so used to the coldness…

“Hi, Sunshine…”

“We have lots of homework today,” Holst sighed on the Lucifer he had in hand. The flame wavered and died. “Don’t want to do them. Eh! Glenn-Sugar cube, what if you do my homework?” he smiled.

Glenn entered the room with a cold glare. He walked to the chair next to the desk and let go of his bag just around the back of it.

“Come oooooooon!” Holst said, rolling his arms around his shoulders. “I’d do anything you want if you do my homework!” he cooed.

“You’d do anything I want if I smile at you.” Glenn snickered. “Why don’t you ask Balthus again?”

“Eh!” Miklan protested.

“I love him…”

“EH!” Miklan groaned.

“… but next time, he failed too many replies. Soooo… Now I search a smart guy. And you… are… smart!”

The last three words had been pronounced with a little hit on his nose with a fingertip adorned of a pink and long nail.

“I won’t do your homework, Holst. I know you would do them faster and better than me if you just gave a try.”

“But I don’t want to!”

“Just go give a kiss to Miklan, we mentioned too much Balthus and now he is jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Miklan groaned.

Both of them looked at him and laughed. Glenn, sardonic; Holst, softer.

Miklan knew how much he was jealous. Jealousy inhabited him so much. But he didn’t want _them_ to hate him as much as he hated him. As much as everybody hated him. And yet, when Holst came to him, he couldn’t help hugged him, squeezing him so hard and loving this kiss, landing a million kisses on his face.

It was so weird…

When they arrived at Garreg Mach, Holst helped him to find Glenn. As Miklan had thought, Glenn wanted to do those studies. In six months, he certainly had been brainwashed with more Chivalry and now he was decided to do what people expected from him. He would certainly marry Ingrid… So Miklan stayed, just as Holst offered. Holst was so benevolent, tender, understanding… Miklan thought they were friends but he understood he wanted more than that the day when, cold, Holst asked him to come to sleep with him. He had put lots of clothes by respect for Glenn and Miklan just have wanted to kiss him… amongst other things. Ashamed, he had talked about that strange feeling to Glenn, expecting him to be angry… But Glenn _understood_ him because he had the same kind of feelings… For a bit more of time, they stayed silent, shared the love they had for each other and for him. And one day… _Holst_ confessed to them…

And since then, it was the bliss.

A happiness Miklan doesn’t believe he could have.

After all… Glenn was still engaged.

How could they be all happy together when Glenn was destined to another one?

“What’s with this sad face?” Holst wondered. “Usually, you’re happier when I cuddle you! Are my hugs not the sweetest anymore?” he pouted.

“Of course, your hugs are the sweetest…” And he smelled so good. His soft features were enthralling him… Like always. “I’m just lost in my thoughts… Don’t like that day at all,” he groaned.

“Tuesday?” Holst asked, surprised.

“My birthday,” Miklan growled.

“Your…” Glenn stepped forward. “You have a birthday?!”

Both looked at Glenn.

“Yes, Glenn. Everybody has a birthday!” Holst said. “You know what? Don’t do my homework, please.”

“Nice!” Glenn replied with a smirk. “My plan worked!” Holst stuck out his tongue to him, and Miklan fought against the envy to kiss him. “I mean… of course, everybody has a birthday! But I didn’t know what day it was… Why you never told it to me?”

Miklan shrugged.

“I have no Crests, I don’t deserve birthday.”

“Miklan!” Glenn groaned.

“That’s what _he_ said. His only presents are…” He shrugged. “All my birthdays have always been hell so… just will be happy when this day is over…”

Glenn froze when he saw him show the scars on his body. That long scar on his face. That long scar Holst gently caressed with his loving fingers.

So that day…

He didn’t dare to say anything. Him confessing his love might have been a soft way to pass a birthday but he also knew… He also knew how much Miklan kept suffering from that deep maim make in his flesh… He wanted to ask if he remembered their kiss, the confession or if he didn’t at all and that was the reason he thought that day was awful… He just begged Sothis for Miklan being able to see what was good in his life?

Why seeing only the scar and the pain when he could see his love?

“No.”

Glenn and Miklan, surprised, looked at Holst who just told it with such a firm tone.

“I refuse you to stay that sad. You will have an amazing birthday! I swear on my own name!”

“Holst…” Miklan sighed. “Birthday sucks…”

Holst got up from his lap, making him growl. He would have loved grabbing his waist and force him to stay by his side.

“First, we will find you a cake! Then we need to throw a party! Hmmm…”

“I don’t need a party,” Miklan said.

“Just chilling with us?” Holst wondered.

“Yeah, if you want to,” he groaned.

Honestly, that was something he craved for. Just them.

“Okay! Help me, Glenn!! We will throw a party just the three of us!” Holst smiled. “Oh! We need to find a present!”

“I don’t need a present, Holst!” Miklan protested.

“I have no idea for a present…” Holst pursued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. Miklan sighed. “So what if I was your present?” he wondered.

Miklan looked at him.

“Okay…” he said under his breath. “Presents are fine.”

Glenn giggled. “Miklan…”

“What?” he growled.

“Nothing.” Glenn approached him and gently kissed him. “Happy Birthday.”

“Thank you…”

Glenn hugged him and whispered “I love you,’ at his ear.

Miklan didn’t reply. He never replied. Not to Glenn, not to Holst. And both had already told it to him. Both had already told it to each other and replied to each other when they say it. Him? Never.

Would they hate him for that?

He just couldn’t say it back.

He didn’t believe he could really love… What he felt for them was so strong, so pure but… but he couldn’t love them. Not with that hatred growing in his guts. Not with that hatred growing when he saw any guys talking to them. Or girls for Glenn. Not when he heard Holst talking about his only friend. The poor guy struggled to make friends and he hated his only friend?! It was bad… He knew it was bad but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t remove that need to lock them down and keep them all for him…

So they would never know…

So they would never know how much he was worthless, useless, nothing… Just a Crestless idiot that used what he learned to rule a Dominion to guide a bunch of bandits…

What a mess he was.

He hated the Goddess, her who refused to give him a Crest, go give him love, but he had the audacity to beg her… Don’t let those he loved so much learn how horrible he was…

He wasn’t worthy of their love, he knew it. He wasn’t worthy of any love… but he wanted to live a little in a dream…

When Miklan had dreamed of Garreg Mach, of that recognition he thought that would come with it, he certainly hadn’t dreamed of this…

Proofing his real nature, he was at Garreg Mach like a parasite. Living in Holst’s room, hiding himself each time someone came around; eating what Holst and Glenn brought him from the dining hall… And even Dumbass was acting as a parasite! He had a place in the stables of Garreg Mach. No one was riding him because he let no one do… But his year, there was a new foal, called Dorte by Hanneman, and Dumbass was taking care of him…

So Dumbass was more useful than him.

Him, on the other hand…

He was just in Holst’s room, training.

And waiting for them to come back. He would sleep with Holst, or also Glenn when this one decided to sneak in. And that was all.

He just looked like the fancy trophy of Holst. And Glenn if he loved to talk about him that way…

And now, as they were out to prepare his birthday, he was just getting bored. Just like he did every day while waiting for them while they learned. He could do push-ups, keep training his muscles, his fighting skill… but without an opponent to really help him, he did not have the feeling to grow. Sometimes, Holst would help him with this. Especially if they could play at strip-fighting. And while Miklan always ended up naked, he had the pleasure to be able to remove a few clothes.

Thought… according to Glenn, and damn he was certainly right, Holst let him win on purpose…

Miklan wasn’t weak. Not at all… He was able to fight for a long time with Glenn and sometimes win. But Holst was another deal. You wouldn’t guess it when you would see him so carefree, so frivolous, joyful and with his pretty make-up and nails but… honestly, Miklan was glad Holst was so soft and tender because if not… he would scare him more than his father never scared him…

Those thoughts were pushed away when the door opened. He stopped doing push-ups with a groan and just sat on the floor, grabbing a towel to dry the sweat rolling along his muscles.

‘Hi…’ Holst smiled, holding a cake in his hands.

Glenn passed the two packages he had in one hand so he could retrieve the cake.

‘Go.’

Holst dashed to Miklan, jumping at his neck. Miklan caught him and squeezed him against his chest.

‘I smell,’ he said.

‘I don’t care,’ Holst replied, passing his arms around his broad shoulders. He leaned to kiss him and stopped. What a Demon! ‘Wait… you said that because you didn’t want a kiss or…’

What an Angel…

Miklan made him close his lips by a kiss, embracing him a bit more.

‘When you’d be done, tell me…’ Glenn said.

He concentrated to light the three candles on the cake with his magic.

‘We…’ Holst gasped for air, intoxicated by the kiss they shared and his desires. ‘We didn’t manage to find enough candles, so we took three! Because we are three!’

‘Candles? Why?’

It had been so long since his birthday had been celebrated… He had the feeling he had forgotten about everything.

‘To blow them and make a wish,’ Glenn said.

‘You can’t say it for it to be realized!’ Holst added.

‘And while it’s your wish and you’re supposed to be able to wish whatever you want, if you wish for Sylvain’s death… I will know it and you will pay for it.’

‘Such a shame, that was in my mind!’ Miklan snickered.

Glenn stared at him, the cake in the hands. He loved Miklan but he also loved Sylvain and had always done his best to protect him, no matter what.

‘You said you loved honey, so we stole that peach cake and we spread honey on it!!’

‘You… spread honey on it?’ Miklan repeated.

‘Yep!’ Holst smiled. ‘I wish we could have made the cake but we can’t make a cake so you will have to do with a stolen cake.’

‘It’s fine… the first two years, I just asked my mother to make muffins… and so I just had one stupid vanilla muffin as a cake… That was so ridicule I stopped,’ Miklan groaned.

Holst looked at him with sadness. ‘But we’re here.’ He gently caressed his cheek, pressing a kiss on his scar. ‘As long as you will be with us, we will always celebrate your birthday. And do everything to make you happy…’

Miklan couldn’t believe those words. He couldn’t believe the tenderness in those fingers. Nor in the tenderness in Glenn’s eyes as he approached him to sit by his side.

Why…

How…

He really couldn’t understand how it was possible but… he didn’t want them to leave.

He didn’t want this to stop.

If this was a dream… he didn’t want to open his eyes again. He was just too happy… even if it was to have Holst on his lap and Glenn approaching with a cake. Even if it was just blowing three candles…

He made the wish this would never stop.

Even if he had to take a piece of that cake that looked disgusting…

Two years later

Home.

Home? Really?

It had never been home…

A few after his birthday, two years ago, Holst and Glenn came back to their lives: one to defend Fódlan from Almyra, the other to defend the King… Back to the promise his father made for him… Both of them came back to their lives, drowning in the Nobility, in the obligations they had but him? Him, he preferred to never come back. He went to his life of bandits. With his guys, rampaging town, taking goods and treasures… He especially relentlessly attacked Gautier’s Dominion with joy and delight. Seeing his father being helpless in front of his ceaseless strikes?

Delicious…

Today, however, he was walking back home, his hands around Dumbass” reins.

His father had called him back.

So he supposed it was to beg him to leave his grounds alone. He was thinking what kinds of things he could as to his father to give him this favor…

Perhaps that Margrave place he wanted? Craved for so long…

Dumbass didn’t like the direction they were taking and Miklan didn’t like it way more… But he wanted to see the face of his father when he will realize how much he had lost. How much he was wrong when he said he was useless.

He wanted to hear him “sorry.” He wanted to see Sylvain cry when he will lose everything because everything would belong to him in the end!

Just as it should have always been…

Dumbass was still protesting to come back in this Hell and he still approved him much. And yet… he entered the property and lead the horse toward the stables. The one he had made for Dumbass, opening his hands on splinters and tool, was rooting. His father didn’t care. Not surprising…

Miklan would certainly not bring his old friend there. But he approached him from the stable where Lobelia, Sylvain’s horse. They both liked each other… She was very young in regard of Dumbass, not even ready to be ridden and she certainly did not have the same blood of him. Next to him, she looked so tiny…

Miklan gently caressed Lobelia’s snout and then pressed a kiss on his horse forehead before leaving.

He went to the Mansion, still wearing his armor. It was starting to rust at some place, there were so many bumps and breaks… the long vest his mother had offered him years ago was now a bit too tiny for his muscles and some part started to come unstitched…

But he didn’t care.

Hell! He knew the stench he was carrying around.

If this could fret him in any way, it was perfect.

He just wanted to see his doom in his eyes, in his stupid face…

Miklan entered that mansion with so many bad memories and walked up the stairs to go to that room he still truly hated: his father’s office.

He didn’t knock at the door.

Why would he?

He pushed open the door and walked toward the big desk covered with files, books and papers. But he lost his feral smile at the second he saw the Lance of Ruin, gently waiting in a corner. He had the feeling the Relic had started to wiggle even more at the moment he arrived in this room.

“Lucas,” the bandit said, stepping forward.

Lucas groaned. “It’s ‘Sir’ or ‘Lord’ Gautier, Miklan.”

“It’s King of the Bandits, Lucas,” Miklan smirked.

“I heard about that… This is the reason why I called you here.”

“I could guess so,” Miklan said, his hand coming on his hip.

“Since Glenn’s death…”

Miklan froze, anger growing in his guts. “Don’t pronounce his name!”

“Why?” Lucas removed his glasses and put them on the desk, rubbing the ridge of his nose. “You might have wanted to corrupt it with your idiocy and your sins, he is still the son of my dear friend.”

“And your dear friend sent him to death! He was barely eighteen!”

“He died for his Kingdom.”

“He was barely eighteen… You kept using him. You and your stupid friend! He forced him to marry a girl he couldn’t care less for! He forced him to raise his other son because he was too dumb to do it himself!”

“That’s enough!” Lucas roared, getting up.

He grabbed the Lance of Ruin and Miklan felt the fear within him…

Years after, the scar still made him suffer, the nightmare still woke him and made him revive the horror of _everything_ he made him pass through.

He would never leave his sleep, his mind, alone. Never.

“I won’t call back my men,” Miklan warned. We won’t be at ease as long as you and your stupid family will be happy. We will destroy every town. EVERY TOWN! And it will fall upon you!”

“I will send soon enough someone to stop you, don’t worry,” Lucas said with a calm tone. “As I said, since Glenn’s death, the eyes of the people turned toward your brother. They want to see him protect the Prince with Felix, in place of that man from Duscur.”

Miklan frowned.

He didn’t understand…

And he looked at the Lance of Ruin his father was caressing with his thumb. He felt dread along his spine.

“Sylvain can’t have a…” Lucas seemed to search his word. “… brother being a bandit. Especially not when this one takes pride of being the ‘King’ of them,” he mocked. “You’re nothing but a nuisance, Miklan. And I won’t take the risk of you damaging Sylvain’s destiny! You’re not a Gautier anymore! You’re nothing! Just as you always had been…”

“What… what do you mean?” Miklan growled.

“You are disinherited.” Miklan’s eyes widened with horror. “Nothing belonged to you anyway. I would prefer to lose everything rather than seeing a Crestless woeful touching one coin of my heritage. Sylvain is my only heir.”

“What?”

Miklan tried to process those words but it was impossible.

Lucas wasn’t trying to save his grounds? Lucas wasn’t in search of an arrangement where he could have what he always dreamed about? He disinherited him? Taking everything away from him? Stability, name, the treasure he hoped having the day he would stab the man in the chest…

“Next time I will see your face, it will be when I’ll destroy you and your stupid crew… Your bandits are as miserable as you, Miklan.”

He smiled.

Such a cold smile…

And Miklan’s anger grew in a heartbeat. He grabbed the desk, a heavy desk made in oat, and threw it on his father. The man stumbled backward and the Lance of Ruin fell on the floor with violence.

Miklan jumped on the knocked down desk and then on Lucas. His knee violently hit the arm that tried to grab the Lance and his hand balled in a heavy fist, hitting again and again. Blood splashed, jumping on Miklan’s face, tinting his long tangled dirty hair, fading in the red color.

“You disinherit me?! You think I’m nothing?! I would show you!”

“MIKLAN!” Miklan felt an arm around him, tugged him backward. “Miklan stops!”

Miklan snapped, throwing his fist in the one who dared to touch him, knocking them against the desk.

“Do it for Glenn!”

Miklan froze and stared at Sylvain, breathing loudly. He had bandages and bruises on his pretty body.

“He believed there was something good in you! If you kill Lucas, you would prove him wrong and you would prove _him_ right!” he said, showing the man on the floor.

Still trying to grab the Lance to defend himself.

“Why is this always you?” Miklan groaned. “Why have you to always put your stupid nose in my belongings and take everything!”

“I stop you from doing something you will regret!”

Miklan laughed. “Regretting to kill that man?! No one can regret that!” He got up and walked toward Sylvain, grabbing him by the hair. “I hope you’re happy to get everything. Again.”

Sylvain stared at him but said nothing.

At this exact moment, Miklan could have killed him. Killed Lucas… No one would know, he would become the Margrave, he would be someone…

But he was no one.

Nothing.

He didn’t even deserve happiness.

That stupid dream he lived for two years stopped, a bit after Glenn asked his hand. Their hands. They all knew it couldn’t be official. You couldn’t marry two men, especially not when you were already engaged to a little girl. But in their heart, it mattered. But Miklan could feel the ring against his heart… Perhaps he did not have a shiny Crest like Sylvain but he had the artifact of Glenn and Holst’s love… Though he still believed he didn’t deserve it…

Miklan violently let go of his younger brother, knocking his head against the desk, and got up to leave the room. The Mansion… that Dominion that didn’t want him.

No… Not that Dominion.

He wanted to turn it into ashes…

He wanted to make his father shiver of fear. He wanted to show him… if he couldn’t be the Margrave, yes, he would be the King of Bandits! He would conquer his territory. He would get his treasures.

He would get everything.

Even though he had no Crest…

Twenty-three months later

“It’s so good to see you…” Holst whispered.

Lying on Miklan’s naked chest, he caressed it, losing his fingers in the red forest covering it.

Miklan had his arm around him, his fingers caressing the pink hair. Way shorter now than when they were at Garreg Mach at the exception of a very long strand.

“I missed you, my Queen…” Miklan swore.

Holst smiled and pressed his head on his chest, listening to the soft melody of his heartbeats. Still a bit fast from the passion they just shared.

“I love you,” he said before pressing a kiss on his pectoral.

Miklan tightened his arm around him.

Holst looked down and brushed the ring lying on the chest with him. The symbol of their love. To the three of them. Damn, he missed Glenn but he couldn’t say so to Miklan…

“Holst…” Miklan lifted his chin, caressing his lips with his thumb. “I really missed you. You really matter to me. When I’m not here, all I want is coming back to your embrace and sweetness. Tomorrow, I will already regret…”

Holst had started to smile but there, he was just pouting. He leaned over him and gently kissed his scar.

“You don’t have to leave,” he whispered.

“I have to.”

Holst sighed, squeezing his fingers on his chest.

“I know you’re a bandit and that only makes you sexier,” he winked. “But you can settle down too… Just a little bit more. Please…”

“I was passing in the region while heading back to Gautier’s Dominion. I just couldn’t pass the opportunity to see you.”

Miklan leaned to kiss him.

“Wait!” Holst said.

Miklan pulled back with a light groan.

“Why are you going to that Dominion again?”

“I received a letter from my mother asking me to come and help her run away from this hell she is living in.”

“What?” Holst shook his head. “No, no, no! Please don’t go there!”

“Are you nuts?!” Miklan groaned.

Holst pressed on his elbow, looking at him in his eyes. “You don’t understand. I received a letter from Hilda telling me someone had stolen the Lance of Ruin. I was surprised. I thought it was you but… I only saw one Lance of Ruin today,” he winked. But his bright smile almost immediately disappeared. “I believed it was just a chance then but now… I don’t feel it. Something’s wrong…”

“And if something isn’t wrong? If my mother needs me? I have to go there, Sunshine.”

“Miklan…”

“I’ve taken my decision. But I will come back.”

Holst bit his lower lip. “Yes… I love you.”

Miklan caressed his back and could sense him tensing.

“I told Glenn I loved him before he left for the War, and he never came back, Holst…” Miklan’s fists tightened. “I’m a Monster. Only made to suffer and for hurting those I love…”

“Then tell me you love me…”

“Holst!”

“Tell it to me because I don’t trust your father! I can’t believe he will let you without harm! The guy always manipulated you and… And if you die… I don’t want to live anymore…” Holst whispered. “So, please… Miklan…”

Miklan gulped with difficulty. “You know I love you… I always loved you. Since that day you threatened me with that knife before comforting me in your lingerie like an idiot.”

Holst passed his arms around his shoulders.

“I love you too… Please. Please, come back to me…”

“Yeah, yeah… Me too, Dumbass…” Miklan groaned.

He frowned as they arrived in the limit of the big Capital. It was already starting to grow colder… People would avoid coming outside as the night went down. And the evening was starting to throw its veil around.

“So… we invade the town?”

Miklan frowned. Something told him the weather would only grow worse…

“Yes. I have something to do in the Mansion but you, gather money and belonging. Anything. Do whatever you want. Lucas would have to repair the damages and if he doesn’t… that would just prove he doesn’t deserve that Margrave title.”

He groaned again.

That should be him! He should be the one holding the Margrave title. He had been trained for it! He had shown he was able to handle it because he was leading a plethora of bandits…

“You handle Dumbass, I won’t bring him there,” Miklan said.

He came down his horse and took the trident on the saddle. Installing it on his back, he caressed the throat of the big animal. Which leaned and pressed his head against his cheek. Miklan caressed the flaming mane.

“Be a good boy and help them, okay Dumbass? I’m coming back quickly…”

He gently tapped the throat of his friend before stepping away.

His armor, his clothes, his hairs… all of these were in a worse state than the last time.

He stunk a bit less than the last time because he took a very long afternoon bath with him but since then, he had ridden with his troop and so and Dumbass were smelling alike. It was still an honor for him to pester his father…

And if he could find back Sylvain…

Miklan crossed the City, knowing soon it will be very different. He wanted to see his father cry, losing in front of him.

He just begged for that…

He suffered his whole life and he just wanted him to see a bit of that…

But especially… he wanted to save his mother. If he had the opportunity to run through his father with his trident, he would do it with pleasure. But the first thing coming in his mind was his mother.

As he entered the perimeter of the Castle, he had a bad feeling…

He walked toward the house he grew up, feeling a chill along his spine. He knew how to get to the main door without being seen by people inside the big edifice. He didn’t want to risk his mother’s life to be endangered by his father. He knew how dangerous was the man…

“You.”

Miklan turned his head, his fingers closing around the trident. He knew this servant… she saw him growing up and she looked at him with fear and disdain.

He was fine with that.

He only deserved that…

“Lord Gautier wants to see you.”

“Excuse me?”

“He said you were expecting faster… Please, hurry, he is in the boudoir.”

Miklan groaned and frowned.

What the hell?

Holst was right?

He should step away. But he was also curious and his rage was growing. He wanted to step in that boudoir and put an end to his father.

And…

He wanted to understand.

Lucas disowned him. He told him he was nothing… Just Miklan. So why making him come back?!

Miklan moved past the servant to enter the Castle and walked to the boudoir. Exactly like the previous time, he didn’t knock and what he found was…

Were not only the most pleasant and peaceful tea party but also that atmosphere he hated.

The big paint of his grandfather plus other portraits of so many Gautier he hated. Especially those showing a big cleavage to happily point their Crests… All the curtains were blue and there was this ambiance that just crept him out, with that tiny bookshelf the servant always had to replace to Lucas’ will and that coffee table… Legends in the family said it had been made by the corpse of their enemies…

But Lucas was here, taking the tea with his wife, little biscuits spread in a plate and books and papers spreading on the coffee table. The smell of Seiros Tea was making him feel sick…

“Mother…” Miklan said.

“I’m sorry…” she replied.

“For what?” Lucas asked. “We knew it was the sole way to make him come.”

Miklan’s trident moved swiftly through the room and would certainly have hurt his father if something wiggling hadn’t stopped him in the mid of this powerful strike.

Miklan was stronger than Lucas.

But not stronger than that thing…

That thing seeming to gleam and request for more…

Miklan’s jaw contracted. He felt the pain in his scar, a pain that could never leave, grew bigger. And his whole body seemed suddenly so cold…

The Lance of Ruin.

“I have a deal to offer you, Miklan.”

“What deal?” he asked between his teeth.

Lucas moved his hand toward his son. Moved the lance toward him. Miklan winced, his whole body tensed. And the man smiled.

“Since Lambert’s death, Faerghus is falling into pieces. We need more people to maintain it. Kleiman struggles with his new dominion and Gaspard died two months ago, letting us in disarray. Charon’s future ruler ran away with a girl years ago and Gideon and Mateus are too quiet. Galatea is an idiot without money only living of Rodrigue. And then there is this idiot of Rufus… stupid Crestless…”

Miklan groaned. “He is the proof you can be a ruler without a Crest. Since I wasn’t a good proof enough for your liking.”

“Rufus is an incapable! But you got a chance… We need people to rules and we have you under the hand. If you can wield the Lance of Ruin and prove your value then, very well… you can keep it and rules a Dominion. I will make sure you will receive one…”

Miklan starred the Lance of Ruin, those wiggling bones calling for his blood with appetite.

Should he?

If his father was trying to play it with him, he would show the expand of his skills.

But he frowned.

“Where is this little shit you’re calling son?”

The man smiled and for a second, Miklan was sure he would reply, “but I don’t call you son”.

“Sylvain is at Garreg Mach.”

“Is it Sylvain I have to fight over to prove I’m the better heir? I could have killed that idiot a million times.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I’ll prove you wrong. When I will be done with the Princess, I will get _my_ Dominion. Start to pack your belongings, Lucas. Your reign is over.”

“Sure…” Lucas smiled as Miklan snatched away the Lance of Ruin of his hand.

Miklan stared the Relic and had another shiver he tried to control…

Two weeks later

Weeks ago, Miklan had made sure Holst would be warned through Beatriz, one of his bandits, who dated Ännchen, one of Holst’s Chosen. Those Warriors he had trained in person and that were extremely frightening…

Just like him.

He thought Holst should come soon.

But a storm would come as well…

They have taken back the Conan Tower. This place was filled with History but also history… Years ago, they were supposed to learn more from their elders and their fathers had brought them all here. The little brother and Dimitri decided to play hide-and-seek and Glenn was supposed to search them. Miklan stayed with him because Glenn preferred that anyway. Safer for baby Sylvain to his opinion. And behind a pillar, while they were taking a break… they kissed for the first time…

It would be here the last blow of his rivalry with Sylvain will take its final blow…

“Chief!!”

A guy dashed toward him.

“They are arriving!!”

Miklan was still staring at the Lance of Ruin. With joy and fear. “Who?” he asked to be sure.

“I think they are Knights from Garreg Mach… They have the banner of the Seiros Church but also… blue flags?”

So he didn’t lie…

Since Holst had received a letter from Hilda, he had expected the Golden Deer to be sent over…

But it was Sylvain.

Finally…

“What should we do now, boss?” another bandit asked, having accompanied the first one.

“Let them enter the tower. They will think they are winning over us… They are stupid Nobles who think they are better than us just because of their Birthright and Crests… But we will outsmart them. I know this tower better than anyone and I will show you where to go so we can set up an ambush,” Miklan smirked.

His lips were twisted in the most feral saw they have never seen on them…

The bandits had followed every instruction. Miklan was a good leader. The commands were simple, clear… and he knew what he wanted. With his way to plan the attack… well the defense, they were supposed to overcome the _teenagers_ very easily but those kids had more power than them. What could they do, them, Crestless, against Nobles with Crests and weapons way more efficient than them…

So…

Yeah, they were very well prepared… But it wasn’t enough.

One by one, they had to step away, more or less wounded…

And now… It was just them. Miklan, Sylvain… and everybody else. But neither of them cared.

The Lance of Ruin was twitching in Miklan’s hand, wiggling. Wanting blood… That blood… That life… That Crestless entity daring to touch it. An affront he would have to pay!

And suddenly, Miklan was startled was the fact… He knew what was awaiting him. But Sylvain… Did Sylvain know? Did his father just… plan all of this?

Did his father expect Sylvain to beat him?

With his Crest and friends…

“Why have you come, Princess?” he growled, his fingers twitching on the wiggling Lance.

“You know why I’m here, Miklan! Hand over the Lance of Ruin. I don’t want to humiliate you… but I will.”

His smile. His stupid smile on his perfect face. Miklan wanted to smash it with his fist.

“Humiliating me?” He laughed. “So this is the moment… I always wanted you to die!”

“I never wanted you to die…” Sylvain whispered back.

Miklan shook his hate with hatred.

“It’s your fault… If it hadn’t been for you…”

“Shut up! I’m so done with all of this! You’ve always blamed me for something that isn’t my fault!” Sylvain bit his lower lip. “I don’t want it!”

Miklan dashed toward him. The Lance of Ruin didn’t even brush Lobelia, Sylvain’s horse, and directly came for his cheek. It wanted the Gautier’s blood and it will have it.

“Sylvain!”

“It’s fine, Fe!” Sylvain yelled.

He made swirl his horse, hit Miklan with the side of Lobelia. His spear swirled and came for his brother’s throat. Miklan dodged the attack without problem, something you wouldn’t have expected when you’d see his big and wide silhouette. The Lance of Ruin wriggled in Miklan’s hand, searching for the Blood of the Family. The Blood that used to wield it for so long…

It throbbed, feeling the Impure Blood.

Miklan felt the throb and stepped backward in fear, avoiding Sylvain’s attack by chance. He glanced at the wiggling bones. His face hurt. His scar burnt as if it was just the day when it happened. The day his blood stained it, stained Glenn’s pretty face…

Miklan threw the Lance forward. The edge went through Sylvain’s clothes and opened the flesh of his shoulders.

At the second the Lance of Ruin tasted the blood, it knew… the only one it can accept as Master wasn’t that guy with his fingers around its long wand. The Lance of Ruin knew who was meant to wield it and it wouldn’t allow this dirty hand to keep touching him.

It remembered the taste of his Blood.

And now it would have more!!!

Lightning struck outside, flashing in the tower.

And the Lance spread its sly on Miklan.

Miklan dodged another attack of Sylvain with a laugh.

“Not bad for your kind!”

Miklan felt his scar burning. Sylvain hiccupped.

“Miklan!”

The scar gleamed red. The Lance gleamed red! And the sly dashed toward Miklan’s body. More of his Blood! It wanted more if his Blood!

“What the hell?!” Miklan yelled, not even hearing Sylvain making echoes to it.

Miklan tried to grab that creepy jam, those ugly blobs, invading him but he couldn’t. It burnt! And the more they moved forward, the more it burnt his face. He wanted to rip it off! He felt the tears in his eyes. He felt the kiss of the Lance of Ruin as she took what belonged to it.

The Blood…

_“The guys always manipulated you…”_ Holst’s voice.

_“Quit living in the expectations of someone who can’t even see you how you are!”_ Glenn’s voice.

What was happening?

The pain was throbbing in his body but he wasn’t conscious of anything. He couldn’t do what he wanted.

“Miklan?! Is that you?!”

Sylvain?

That Crested…

“ _My Crest doesn’t make my worth and you should know it. I couldn’t do what you do even with my Crest. And certainly not have such a view!”_ Glenn’s voice teased.

“ _Come on, Miklan! That’s not because I have a Crest I’m beating you! That’s because you keep looking at my panties! And that’s why I put on your favorite today!”_ Holst’s voice echoed in his mind.

Glenn…

“ _Miklan…_ ”

What was this voice echoing within him?

A child’s voice?

“ _Your father is an asshole… I wish you could see yourself with my eyes…”_

_“Please, don’t listen to Uncle Lucas… to Lucas. It’s losing your time… He doesn’t know you. I do.”_

_“Miklan… Miklan, I’m afraid… Can I…”_

Miklan could recognize Holst’s voice then Glenn’s but this one. That childish voice… Why couldn’t he know who had this voice?

“ _Miklan… You have to tell people when you love them…”_

_“I love you,”_ he heard himself reply.

And he could hear Glenn’s laugh.

“ _I’m not talking about you, dumbass…”_ He laughed again. “ _Not you, Dumbass!!!”_

_“Holst_?”

“ _Miklan… idiot…”_

He remembered this moment. It was just before seeing Glenn disappear forever from his life. Just after, he had helped him to climb on the horse of his family and the oldest son of the Galatea had been so shocked to see them kiss. The last kiss. A kiss lasting in his memory forever…

For the eternity…

Glenn… He will join him in a matter of seconds, won’t he? If he didn’t die from that pain, he would turn mad…

“ _Miklan… I’m afraid father will come…”_

What?

This child…

“ _Miklan… you want we share my Crest?”_ the tiny voice asked. “ _So we both have one!!”_

Sylvain…

Miklan fought against the pain and the fog around him. His stupid mind had always erased a feeling in his guts. When Glenn was with Felix, hugging him; when Holst gushed about his sister…

Jealousy.

Miklan managed to control the Beast he had been turned into before it launched an attack on Sylvain. He wouldn’t let the Lance hurt him. Not in his watch! He couldn’t have protected him from Lucas but if he could protect him from the Lance.

He saw himself, years ago, lifting his brother to let him catch a butterfly. The fear, the blood…

It wasn’t the first time.

When his father had screamed his name… he was panicked.

So he let go of Sylvain. Down the well…

And now he remembered the presents for every birthday. On his cushions. Stupid presents. Rocks, bracelets? Things he threw away because he didn’t understand them. Right now he understood… Why he had never killed Sylvain while he could have a million times. Why he wanted to see his brother come for this last battle until he realized…

All of this… It was just the result of a manipulation…

He couldn’t touch Sylvain but he could attack him relentlessly to make him stronger, more resistant…

His father had fed his hatred for Sylvain. But…

Did he really have hatred for him at first?

Miklan felt the pain in his heart and images flashed in his mind. Glenn, Holst, rings… Sylvain dashed to him.

“Miklan?”

Wait… it wasn’t his mind.

“Miklan!”

Sylvain knelt by his side. Miklan moved his hand and noticed it really was his hand. He was Human again…

He touched Sylvain’s cheek, making him shiver with anguish.

“I love you…”

Sylvain’s eyes widened and before he could do anything, the hand fell and the eyes stopped moving. Sylvain leaned over him. He had a jolt when he saw a droplet falling on his wounded cheek. The thunder echoed, lightning made the whole scenery so vivid and creepy at once. Then he realized…

He was crying…

“My brother…” he whispered.

“I’m sorry, Bunny!”

The night had fallen so fast? Or perhaps it was the cloud so dark? It was raining harsh and lightning kept coming with violence. Bunny, a beautiful Dragon with pink scales and big feathery rainbow wing, had to zigzag through the inclemency’s attack. They both were drenched and the guy on their back was shivering of coldness. But… who asked him to put a red booty short, high-armored boots and a sleeveless red top that was open in the back and in the front, barely hiding his pectorals and side?

“We’re soon there!” he screamed, trying to cover the anger of thunder.

The Beast eased him softly right in his mind.

The Conand Tower was approaching.

And the Dragon came down. They grew closer to the ground and their rider jumped on the floor. Just when a bunch of teenagers was coming out of the tower.

“Who are you?!”

A young adult, with dark blue hair and a shiny sword, spread their arm in front of the children like a loving parent.

“Sylvain?!”

Without taking care of that adult, the man dashed toward Sylvain who was had Felix’s arm around him. And blood on his face. The rain falling on him tried to wash it, drown his tears.

“H… Holst?”

“What’s happening?” Holst asked.

“I’m… I’m sorry…” Sylvain said.

“Wh…”

“He’s dead,” Felix cut short.

Holst stared at him with horror. He shook his head violently.

“Who?”

He said it under his breath but he knew it. And you could tell it without looking at his eyes…

“They… They let his body there. But who would bury him?” Sylvain whispered.

Holst held out his hand to him.

“Us.”

Felix looked at Sylvain, not sure it was a good idea, but his friend was already nodding. Sylvain closed his hand on the manicured one and followed Holst as he stepped into the Tower. Walking up the stairs, he just came down was exhausting. Morally exhausting. He had screamed for anyone to take his brother’s body with them. To do something… He wasn’t just a corpse to leave to the vulture…

He wanted to ask a question to Holst but he didn’t dare.

He was still holding the Lance of Ruin in his damp hand. It was as if he hadn’t realized he had it…

Sylvain had noticed Holst was smiling at him, gently caressing his hand. His smile was so bright but his eyes dead…

Climbing all the stairs, they arrived at Miklan’s corpse.

“I will let go of you to lift your brother, is it okay?” Holst asked.

“Yes…”

“We will bury him not far away. Bunny, my Dragon, is making a hole for him.”

“Okay…”

“I’m sorry, I don’t have any shovel so…”

“It’s fine,” Sylvain replied. “I just want him to be buried.”

“We will bury him.”

“Thank you…”

Sylvain looked as Holst picked up the heavy body. Without big difficulties, it seemed so. And they climbed down the stairs.

Again.

Felix, who had followed, his hand on the sword, quickly walked to Sylvain. His friend took his free hand, his fingers shaking, as they followed Holst. Down the Tower and then toward the wide area behind the Tower.

Under the rain, Bunny was scratching the soft ground, making a big and deep hole.

“Holst…?” Sylvain whispered.

“Yes?” Holst asked, turning his head toward him.

Sylvain couldn’t look at him while he held this body in his arms as if Miklan would soon open his eyes and embrace him back.

“D…Do you know… what could I have done for him not hating me?”

He didn’t want to live with regrets or remorse and he knew that’s the only thing he would earn with such a question.

But how he couldn’t?

Holst knelt, sliding the wide corpse in the hole.

“He didn’t hate you…”

Sylvain had a nervous laugh. “Come on…”

“He was never taught love. He didn’t believe he was allowed to love and didn’t believe he deserved love… That wasn’t your fault, Sylvain,” he swore. “He wanted to love you…” Holst got up and looked at him. “Do you want to see him or anything?”

Sylvain shook his head.

Holst gently nodded and caressed the Dragon’s neck. Bunny started to put the earth over the body. As the huge Beast was doing that, Holst opened the sack tied at the huge pink paw. He removed something from it.

Sylvain gulped with difficulty and ruffled his pockets to grab a tiny box in there. He tugged on the blue ribbon and pushed away the dark wrap to remove a tiny Lance of Ruin. It was one of those trinkets you would sell to the children. One inch long, not very interesting but it was a Lance of Ruin.

He approached the little mount.

“He… He told me he loved me. Just before dying… I thought… he wanted to curse me?”

Holst shook his head.

“I don’t think so? It… It was difficult for him to say, ‘I love you.’ He really believed he wasn’t worthy of this. But I don’t think he hated you. He hated Crests…”

“I hate Crest too.”

Holst approached him and gently caressed his cheek. Sylvain noticed that he was trying not to cry. He wanted to say “You can cry” but he was fighting as well. And they barely knew each other… They saw each other once? Twice perhaps… Three times at worst.

“The treatment he suffered wasn’t a reason for what he did. But… he wanted to love you. He forgot he used to love you, I think…”

Sylvain looked down then moved away to walk toward the grave. He stuck the little Lance in it. As a wooden cross.

“Rest in peace…” he whispered.

Holst came next to the grave too and crouched to lay the flowers on the wet earth.

“Happy birthday, my love…”


End file.
